Friday, May 29, 2009

When you‡ run across§something this awesome first thing on Friday morning, you must say to yourself, "Self,% to hell with it, I'm posting a naked¶ little link," and share with those you love# so they, too, can revel in the wonders of the universe†† and the Internet that brings them to us.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Not unsafe for work -- I just make it sound that way because I am a blogtease.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): And by, "you," I mean, "I."

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Right there on Facebook, under Jax's smiling face.

The backstory: Six Scents: Series One@ is a collection of six fragrances featuring collaborations between perfumers and fashion designers. An undisclosed portion of the proceeds will go to Designers Against AIDS (DAA) International AIDS Awareness Education Center in Antwerp, originally scheduled to open in December of 2008, but re-set for some time in 2009.

I have procured dollops of all six scents%... do you sense a theme emerging?^

Marin says: Sharp, bitter orange or maybe lime, then it morphs into pine, with a dry something behind it -- like a cedar branch, needles and all. A whiff of lemon lolls in the middle of it, surprisingly similar to the pine.§

There's a definite strata of fresh, white flowers solidly behind, and I would swear I'm getting fig or currant or some other dark, elusive fruit.

As the brighter notes fade off -- and they don't really fade so much as mellow -- a warmer, rounder something flirts with the composition. The floral starts looking like a spicy carnation,¶ just warming from the florist's fridge,# pine still singing in the chorus.

Now, I don't exactly smell amber, sandalwood or musk, but there's definitely something from that classic family. Apparently nothing too loud. Through it all, that cedary dryness just reining it in and making it a bit mysterious.

I think this is a very well-crafted perfume, cohesive, slightly unusual and mischeviously elegant. I like it.

Six Scents says: "The inspiration for this fragrance was driven by the way that Alexandre creates fashion. The creative liberty he uses to design fashion which can be used equally by men or women. This fragrance can be worn at any time, for any occasion, as a form of self expression, to be daring, or simply for the pure pleasure of wearing a fragrance. The Alexandre Herchcovitch scent evokes freedom ad sensuality, and similar to his fashion, the perfume is striking, emblematic and tanscends categories." - Joachim Correll, Perfumer

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Well, brought me in any case. Left it right on my doorstep.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I am looking at you, Lyda Kay.

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Presumably, they are planning on a Series Two.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Due in no small measure to the (continuing) bad influence of one Nathan Branch.

^FOOTNOTE (careted): We're all about the themes here at the Rickety Blog.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Juno dropped some fine science on me the other day proving lemon and pine have more in common than household cleaners, but if I had the energy to go dig that up, I'd have the energy to write a real post.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): For those of you who don't troll the perfume blogs, carnation IS spicy. It's kinda like freesia or some other distinct white flower with a touch of clove and maybe a hint of cinnamon. Next time you're going past the 12-for-$2.99 bucket in the supermarket floral department, stop, close your eyes and give the carnations a good, deep, thoughtful sniff. Nobody will point and laugh.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I believe I've already relayed this olfactory trigger, but my sophomore year in college, my mom sent me a giant Christmas floral arrangement that had roses, carnatios and pine boughs. That's exactly where I get stuck with anything that has both pine and flowers.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Which has to do with erosion rather than sex. I know. I learned about erogenous sinclines during a roadside geology lesson with my dad and have never quite forgiven the geologic world for that not being even half as lustful as it sounds.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I don't know. Google doesn't know. Google thinks "amber fond" is an agony aunt or maybe a 21-year-old in Fond du Lac. Google thinks perhaps I meant to say "amber found." That's the second time in a week Google has been no use to me at all.

§§FOOTNOTE (double sniff - like a double take, only with your nose): Ahhhh. This is why I try really hard to never look at the notes or the perfumers hype before I do my review. I would have TOTALLY gotten green apple (or green, apple) through the power of suggestion. Funny how much lemon and pine smells like green apple. Srsly.

All my hours and clicks and tears and swearwords and *headdesks* and shrieks and sturm und drang surrounding the fiasco with the Rockies World Series tickets and the more recent debacle of the Nuggets Western Conference Finals tickets somehow did not prepare me for the pain and frustration of being unable to get onto the Sock Summit website to register for classes.

And I have to pee REALLY bad -- racehorse style -- and I know if I leave my desk I'll lose the two-second window alloted me under the Sock Summit version of Murphy's Law and...

It's not big and gross.‡ Nobody else can see it. Mostly I can feel it and my eye is gummed up every morning.

[SUMMARY: I am NOT gross.]

But I went to look up sties on WebMD or MediWeb.§ Among the causes? Stress¶ and improper eyelid hygiene.#

Let me repeat: IMPROPER EYELID HYGIENE.

Am I the only person in the world who's never thought about *proper* eyelid hygiene? I thought those things pretty much took care of themselves.†† I mean... don't rub day-old meat in your eye, sure, but... PROPER eyelid hygiene?‡‡

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I can't take credit for that line. When I was ten, Dad had a sty and Mom, being a nurse, was interested in it to a frightening degree. During her nightly examination, he said, "How romantic, sitting here with you, looking at the scars in the sty." I thought it was the cleverest thing I'd ever heard. It still ranks up there.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I feel it's very important you all know I'm not all diseased and red and bumpy and oozing. It's a dainty sty, befitting my dainty self.

I can hear you laughing.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): As you do.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I actually went in assuming stress would be a possible cause, since my head's been a hair below "explode" (heheheheh) for two weeks. Mostly I was seeking vindication.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): This is a term that is nearly impossible for me to say. I can't get out of an "improper eyegiene" rut.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): You know... like cats.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): For the curious, the online medical experts suggest you put a warm compress on your eyes every day for fifteen minutes. Not to get rid of a sty, mind you (though that's one of the things you can do for a sty), but in the name of Proper Eyelid Hygiene.

§§FOOTNOTE (the mind spins!): More Shakespeare! We are a literary marvel here at the Rickety Blog!

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

There are moments when I come out of the static and fog and a moment of lucidity will lead me to say to myself, "Self,† perhaps you are taking this a bit too far."

Such was the case the day a couple of weeks ago when I went to my mailbox and found a package I couldn't identify. Where had it come from? Was it a present? As I inventoried my online purchases and expected deliveries, I got nothing.

The return address meant nothing.@

I shook it and it didn't sound like yarn, perfume or tomato planters.%

I'm a little embarrassed to admit it, but I was actually kind of jazzed about special, limited edition stupid sparkly vampire conversation hearths that actually sparkle.

Not only are there no special, limited edition stupid sparkly vampire conversation hearths that actually sparkle, check out the shoddy workmanship on the standard, chalky non-sparkly conversation hearts:

More often than not the words trail off the side, bleed off the top or were apparently left behind on the conveyor belt on which they were decorated.

[SUMMARY: Quality Control at the New England Candy Company must be on vacation.]

Now, what in the hell am I going to do with three unopened boxes of substandard sparkly stupidity?

And how much do you suppose I paid for it?

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I always call myself "Self."

@FOOTNOTE (atted): I would be remiss (almost was) if I didn't mention that the Amazon seller's name was "Robert Pattison's Mom." And least I *hope* it was her Amazon seller's name and not a thinly-veiled cry for help.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Pretty much the scope of my home delivery world. Except the occasional present from Nintendo, and you know I do the same thing with those boxes.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): What other possible reason could I have had for buying something repugnant just because, apparently, it was numbered and limited edition?

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): It looked different from the rest of the box, it felt different from the rest of the box, but when I rubbed it (and later scratched the bejebus out of it), it didn't smell different from the rest of the box.

NOTE: For those of you who checked in earlier, I somehow left the last footnote off the original post. Perhaps my brain was trying to save me the embarrassment of admitting how base my thought process really is.

††FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): For some reason the taste of forbidden fruit ramble finished out in my head with, "...if you blow a married man." You don't find a lot of saints with brains as lascivious as mine.

Monday, May 18, 2009

I've refrained from posting the Sparkleback Mountain one and the Hugh Jackman vampire hunter one, but this comes from my favourite movie of all time,§ so I gave in to the temptation.

[SUMMARY: The campaign for saint continues... two steps forward, one step back.]

Later this week, we will be exploring stupid sparkly SweeTarts.

Srsly.¶

I couldn't possibly make that up.

*************

Une Fleur de Cassie# - Dominique Ropion for Frederic Malle

Marin says: The first shot is pure Aqua Net, but in a flash it becomes a rich, meaty jasmine before skipping off into a woodsy, leafy white floral.

My nose may be deceiving me, but I think I get a whiff of lime or bitter orange. As soon as I take a deep hit to verify, I lose it. Skating along on top is that crayola smell I associate with violet, but it too hides as soon as I go looking for it.

Deeper than pretty white flowers, not so indolent as pure jasmine, fresh and wet for woods -- kind of like a flowering wood after a rain storm -- and not at all overwhelming. I think this would be a particularly nice summer evening scent -- just a wee bit rich and sexy for a summer day -- and not bad for the office, really.

Hans says: I'm getting a lot of floral and a lot of aldehyde. Floral like... I'm not good at picking out flowers. Daisy. Is daisy subtle?

[There's a category generically known as "white flowers" that is usually pretty light.]

That's it, then. I'm going with aldehyde and white flowers.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I warned you right there in the sidebar. Just wait 'til my tomatoes start coming in.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): It's detours like this that make the "still a knitblog" tag necessary.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I didn't say it was a good movie (though I'd defend its soundtrack to the ends of the earth), but it is my favourite.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I'm using this so much -- yes, I say it out loud and pronounce it with no vowels -- I'm in danger of becoming as irritating as after the South Park Al Gore episode when Tani and I almost drove Jax crazy saying, "I'm totally cereal" at the end of every single sentence we uttered.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I was going to blame Nathan for this, but it turns out it's the work of Bad Influence No. 3, Michelyn Camen (FifthSenseNYC), who is rapidly becoming one of my favourite -- and most expensive -- twits.

$FOOTNOTE (on the money!): I can't believe I couldn't get the cedar or apricot, but I'm tickled pink I got the jasmine and violet.

So, I'm reading Bonk, right? And I'm on the chapter about artificial insemination of pigs, right? (I'll save the discussion of "uterine upsuck" for another time.) And appears this paragraph:

[A] training video . . . includes a shot of a[n] inseminator lying on a sow, his chest pressed against back. With one hand, he reaches down beneath her to rub her mammaries and squeeze her teats. One of the less prominently known similarities between pigs and men: They both fondle breasts. No other animals on the planet do this.

Do with this what you will. No information is good or bad on its own; it's how we use it that makes the difference.

Kim

Ears... bleeding

Nose... glowing

Head... exploding

Like a geek in an Apple store,§ I don't know where to begin.

Do I go with the "men are pigs" angle? Do I go topical with a swine flu thing? Then there's the whole "lick the pig" schtick... surely I'd be remiss if I didn't give a nod to licking the pig. And don't get me started on why we haven't yet discussed "uterine upsuck".¶ Or how badly I need a copy of "Bonk."

So let me simply leave you with this thought:

Similarities between men# and pigs continue to pile up.†† Is it a conspiracy of the vast pork products industry that the clear fact that people are descended from pigs rather than chimpanzees has been buried for so long?

[SUMMARY: All my science comes from Mythbusters.]

Ay, there's the rub.‡‡

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I'm giving myself more credit for grace than I deserve. I'm sure when you read there was going to be pig sex in a later post, you yawned and got yourself another cup of coffee.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Kim and I could probably publish a book filled with our "Thought of You" emails. We think a lot of each other.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which, as Dave Barry says, would be an excellent name for a rock band.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): And here I mean "mankind."

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Pigs are said to be clean and intelligent and solicitous of their young, but more importantly people apparently taste a lot like pork -- long pig : people :: veal : baby cows -- and any time the Mythbusters need a human body analog, they use a pig carcass.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): You can't imagine how impressed I am with my own use of Shakespeare today.

I have something slightly funner for later, but when I got to the comments this morning, I realised I hadn't included all those knitterly particulars on the Baby Surprise Jackets.‡

And I didn't apprise Sarah of the washing instructions for hers Ben's.

[SUMMARY: Bad knitter!]

The Compass Star:

Yarn: Plymouth Yarn Cotton Kisses - light blue - 51 cotton/42 acrylic/7 nylon (machine wash, lay flat to dry), about 250 yards; less than one ball, but you couldn't quite get two sweaters out of one ball.§Needle: US 5/3.75 mmSize: between six months and one year¶

Now, do I get saint points for this, or did I lose saint points yesterday for not doing it in the first place?

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Yep. Still funny.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): You non-knitters may wish to avert your eyes or just tune in later when I give a brief treatise on pig sex.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): That's what she said. *beavisgiggle*

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Gauge is SUCH a subjective thing.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): I've waffled between the Not Evil Stepsister-in-law and the Future Stepsister-in-law. I kinda like the way NESSIL FuSSIL sounds when I say it out loud. Which I am. Right now. By myself in my office. If anybody asks, I'm going to tell them I'm speaking German.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Ravelry has scant information on this yarn, so I asked Google to help. Google didn't help much -- it doesn't even come up on the Stylecraft website, so... I don't know what to tell you. Discontinued, maybe? Perhaps I should go buy up all Showers of Flowers has to offer.

Most aldehydes are overwhelming to my delicate palate§§ and leave me thinking "Aqua Net." This one is bright and light and puts a fine synthetic net over a fruity floral.

I can't quite pick the fruit -- it's not exactly citrus, not exactly peach, not exactly mango. But it's definitely fruity. Perhaps like orange blossom, where the fruit hides in the flower. The flowers are strong and white and sweet like tropical blossoms -- maybe a dash of tuberose. And there's an edgy, slightly acrid depth that I'm starting to associate with ylang ylang.

As this dries down, everything mellows nicely, and there's a definite tinge of sweet oranges in the mix, complimented by a clean, clear tuberose. The aldehyde is nearly gone and there's a delicate golden depth -- amber -- that I find sophisticated and enchanting.

So my love affair with MDCI continues. They are so very French, to be sure, and so very well-crafted and slightly unusual.

This one is the brightest of the MDCI group so far and may be the spring/summer scent -- or one of them¶¶ -- that I've been looking for.

LuckyScent says: The top notes or [sic] orange, pineapple and galbanum combine in an unexpectedly radiant composition which fans of Nicolai will recognize as very much in her style. With the precious fruits secured as cargo, the search continues. Our hero gathers an abundance of heady florals— precious ylang, orange blossom and tuberose designed to delight any recipient of such a magnificent bouquet— and tucks them into a basket he has lined with grasses in order to protect them. Finally, the sailor’s attention turns to the most precious and rare essences– musks, incense and ambergris– eternal mementos of his exotic travels and worthy of none save the one who waits for him alone, praying for his safe return. A complex scent that evokes the bitter and the sweet, the tenderness and the wistful longing of romance.

Hans says: Mmmm. I get, like, honey. Like a sweet honey. Like a flower honey. Honeysuckle. Call it honeysuckle. I think my talents are waning.

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): This is all my cousin Joe and I say to each other. It makes Thanksgiving really, really funny (to us) and made Mother's Day bearable (to me), but I think it irritates our grandmother.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): I hear you laughing.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): There's a protocol here, you know.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Which is both liberating and limiting, knitting-wise.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): If future stepnephew-in-law is half as happy as these buttons, he will have a fairytale childhood... "fairytale" in the modern-day connotation, not like Hansel and Gretel.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): For the record, FSSIL went into labour at about 1:00 Sunday morning and had the baby Sunday night. It's a boy. And Sarah had hers three weeks ago. Also a boy, but we already knew that.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Mine says "PN1" on the bottle because it was still in the working title stage when I got my set of MDCI samples. I consider this to be like my Metallica: Ride the Lightning tour shirt, which proves I got in on the ground floor. We, the uncool, clinging to the symbols of our occasional accidental hipness...

Friday, May 8, 2009

So I was at the Tattered Cover website† to see if they had that new drinking and knitting book‡ Kim pointed me to and I noticed that Cutest Little Car in the Whole Wide World is still prominently§ featured in the tiny slideshow in their banner.

Let's hope the fame doesn't go to my head.¶

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): A B&N boycott is easier when you are minutes from one of the best independent booksellers in the country.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

So you know how knitting is: you have a dozen things going on,† you finish an object, you share with your friends, but there's so much going on beneath the surface.‡

I've knit a few BSJs§ since the last time we visited the knitting, and a fish¶ and a bomb,# but I've been diligently working on my six-at-once socks too. You just haven't seen them.††

[SUMMARY: In which I ask you to take a leap of faith.‡‡]

The herringbone pattern, which takes much more yarn than the lace patterns, is nearly done.§§ I am, in fact, a half-inch into the ribbing. And I'm was really proud of myself because I could kind of tell it wasn't quite as stretchy, so I incorporated some truly elegant calf-shaping.¶¶

Last night, I tried all the socks on.##

The herringbones are almost too narrow for my duck feet and totally too narrow to get around my heel.

SO... it seems like a good time for a contest of some sort.

[SUMMARY: In which I dangle bait.]

The sticky part is 13" around††† and I truly believe that with a little Crisco and a pair of pliers, I could get the socks over my heel.% It's *that* close to working. The socks are knit to a women's 8 1/2 size and would work for a slighly larger or quite a bit smaller length.

If you truly believe this would work for you, write a lovely sock haiku, put it in the comments ON THIS POST‡‡‡ and I will pick a random winner from the entrants on, say, Monday morning.

Let's say you have until 8:00 ay-em§§§ on Monday to get a haiku in.

[SUMMARY: In which I explain how your leap of faith could be clothed in very cute socks.¶¶¶]

Pass it on -- there's nothing I like better than a lovely sock haiku.###

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Maybe I'm projecting.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): My sophomore year in college, there a flurry of construction on the south end of Taylor Hall. Bulldozers, big flatbed trucks, smallish cranes and a pile of metal. After a couple of days, they left. And we waited to see what the pile of metal was going to be when it was finished. Turns out it was finished. It was a sculpture called Key Shift, about which the artist said (paraphrasing), "It gives the impression of a lot going on just beneath the surface." To which I replied, "Because there's nothing going on up here." Now every time I talk about stuff going on beneath the surface, I think of that. You're welcome.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): I have the pictures to prove it.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Of course.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): We'll talk about that later, when the bomb is famous.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Probably because most WIP pictures are not so interesting.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): I'm a saint-in-training. You can trust me.

§§FOOTNOTE (short on time, no cute names for the footnote symbols today): I mention the extra yarn requirements because it explains why they are going to be finished before their fellow socks. This is part of the vast educational bounty that is circus knitting.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (parapara): To fit my elegant calves.

##FOOTNOTE (poundpound): Because it's been cold enough for footy pajamas until just the last couple of days and 1) it is well nigh impossible to try on socks over pajama feet, and 2) you have to get practically naked to free your feet to eliminate that issue. Nothing wrong with naked, it's just inconvenient to go from footy pajama to footloose in any graceful and timely manner.

†††FOOTNOTE (triplecross): Not *that* kind of sticky, you perverts. Around the ankle AND the heel where socks get stuck if they're going to stick.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): I want it on the record that I do not have fat ankles or cankle, but I think my roundheeled ways may be manifesting themselves in my sock fittings.

‡‡‡FOOTNOTE (triplewhateverthehellthosethingsare): Sorry to yell. Just making a point.

§§§FOOTNOTE (swerveswerveswerve): Mountain Daylight Time.

¶¶¶FOOTNOTE (three paragraphs): Like loaves and fishes, my friends.

###FOOTNOTE (three numbers): That's not entirely true, but to list the things I like better than a lovely sock haiku would ruin the moment.

EDITED: Because I wonked the footnotes the first time around. Like the footnotes aren't confusing enough. But now they should make sense -- or as much sense as they ever do.

Anyway, the purpose of the whole debacle was Dr. Doom's fifth birthday.# He requested an Army theme,†† so we had masks and helmets. I believe you've met Brother and Tallest, Hairiest Nephew.‡‡

I'd like to introduce you to the Peach, Dad's fiancee.§§

And I had to ask the FSIL@ if the cake was professionally done¶¶ because wouldn't this be an excellent Cake Wreck?

Of course, everything looks better by candlelight.##

Even Dr. Doom has that soft glow.

Once the candles go off, of course%...

There is a gift shop at Casa Bonita.†††

It looks about like you might expect a gift shop at Casa Bonita to look.

There is also an arcade at Casa Bonita. Apparently, Spider Stompin' is the Whack-a-Mole of the new millenium. If they came out with Spider Stompin' for the Wii, I could probably have the legs of a fencer.‡‡‡

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Yes, I looked up "doom" in the English-Spanish dictionary.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Because I made a *huge* fuss about it.

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Note the part where anybody over two has to pay $15 for a really, really bad taco salad to be at Casa Bonita.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): I'm making the assumption they didn't include the hookers and blow part of Colfax in that. Then again, as my friend Jeff says, "If you make an assumption, you make an ass out of you and umption."

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): As he got in the Land Cruiser to go home, he said, glee painting every inch of his voice, "I can't *believe* that I'm FIVE!" Go on... make "awwwww" noises.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): It appears the days of Disney Princess Death Match are behind us. Dr. Doom now has a disdain of all things pink and girly. I like to thnk that secretly, in the dark of night, he says good night to each of them, Walton's Mountain-style.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): Note the family resemblance.

§§FOOTNOTE (§hingles §uck): Dad was not, sadly, in attendance. I will believe to my dying day he got shingles just to get out of eating Casa Bonita "food."

@FOOTNOTE (atted): Former sister-in-law. Y'know... like FSO, only slightly less likely to drunk-dial at 2:30 in the morning.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (baloons and artillery): While the balloons were done by a professional baker, the tank candles were all eBeth.

##FOOTNOTE (the number of times I got it wrong...): Don't try to pretend you're not floored by the artistic majesty of this photo.

%FOOTNOTE (percented): Then again, my flash-phobia leads to some pretty unmajestic work, so maybe it's a wash if you aren't floored by the artistic majesty of the candles but manage not to be wholly derisive about the wiggly, grainy shots.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

In the spirit of never leaving well enough alone, when I knit the original angler fish, it was roughly the same colours Hansi uses in her model fish. It was also worsted weight and somewhere between baseball- and softball-sized.

Not appropriate at all for a Dr. Doom gift, particularly for a birthday as important as *FIVE*.

[SUMMARY: We have high and specific standards here at the Rickety Blog.]

So I poked around and found Cascade Lana Grande, which is roughly three times the size of Cascade 220 and far more likely to reach the football-sized range I was hoping for.

Also? Improbable colours, not normally found in nature.‡

From cast-on to the mad, sniffling, swearing,§ praying¶ removal of the lure,# it took me about seven hours. Most of the things that seemed intimidating and fiddly when I read through the pattern turned out to be relatively painless and stitch-by-stitch.††

I kinda love this fish.

So did Dr. Doom.‡‡

Let's all take a moment to thank the Holy Cats and the FSM for kids who really appreciate knitting.

[SUMMARY: Amen.]

Anyway, it was a hit and we'll talk about Casa Bonita tomorrow.§§ On the tragic weekiversary.¶¶

†FOOTNOTE (crossed): Call me Ishmarin.

‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Not for some benthic creature snuffling along the dark ocean floor, in any case. Also? Doesn't the full frontal fish look a little like the Ferrari from the other day?

§FOOTNOTE (swerved): See, the pipe cleaner that held the lure up so fetchingly in the worsted weight version didn't work so well in mega-thick yarn. The lure kept flopping over his eyes like Martha Stewart's bangs. I whip-stitched a spine along the back of the lure to stiffen it up (heheheh). No go. I sewed increasingly intricate, tight and architectural anchors from the lure to the fish. Still no go. About two minutes into the lurectomy, I was nearly in tears and spitting profanity, afraid I was going to accidentally steek the fish on the eve of the Big Birthday.

¶FOOTNOTE (paragraphed): Even if you're not a saint-in-waiting, any kind of steeking -- particularly *accidental* steeking -- calls for prayer.

#FOOTNOTE (pounded): Somewhere in the fight to get the lure to straighten up and fly right, a nagging doubt that had been niggling at the back of my mind kicked in: when my mom was in grade school, she had a friend who left a wire hanger on her bed, rolled over on it in the middle of the night and poked her own eye out. This has left me with a healthy (I can hear you snickering) fear of wire in things that might be slept with or rolled upon. So, really, I was just as happy not having wires on Dr. Dooms fish, only by the time I came to that conclusion, I had a diabolical web of anchor stitches and a real fear of inadvertently steeking the fish.

††FOOTNOTE (ddouble-ccrossed): Hansi's marvelous pattern-writing is fully responsible for the ease of this project.

‡‡FOOTNOTE (doubble-crossssed): He even put down his glow-in-the-dark, LED-lighted pirate sword long enough to give it a good squish.

§§FOOTNOTE (just a little dizzy): All this sitting up has depleted my fever-soaked constitution.

¶¶FOOTNOTE (quarter note -- because it's a short post. Get it? Yeah, I still think I'm funny): I'm pretty sure that's a word.